We ate some food and packed up with plans to continue over Hatcher pass, fishing here and there and then doing the Reed Lakes hike that the pilot told us about, near the end of the pass road.
We found the most AMAZING water to fish.
No fish. No see fish. No catch fish. (Once again)
Not that we are great fishermen, but honestly, this feels a bit weird. We don’t know what to think.
As we crested the pass and came around the corner there were suddenly dozens and dozens of cars. People EVERYWHERE. It was crazy! Because until then, it was just sort of sparse. Normal to below normal traffic. It was jarring — and it had me instantly aware of the fact it was Thursday (the new Friday, post covid) and we still would need a campsite for the night…
Anyway.
It was noonish when we pulled into the trailhead, so we rooted around the fridge to find something to eat. And what do I find? The leftover hamburgers that Dave insisted I make with the meat he worried would go bad (*eyeroll*).
Given how awful they were the first time around, I planned to season the heck out of them to make them more palatable. I used the sad container of honey mustard we had dragged all the way from Glenwood Springs when we fished the Colorado River with Loren the day before we left on this trip. It looked battle-weary, but it was the ticket that allowed us to be able to get that hamburger down.
Fueled for the hike, we set out — not certain how far we would go because Dave continues to have trouble with his neck/shoulder. Walking seems to exacerbate it, sadly.
The hike was one of my favorites. To some degree, a hike is a hike is a hike. But this one kept me entertained. I truly didn’t even feel the 2000 foot elevation gain. I did feel it going DOWN though, that’s for sure. I’m thinking this might be the number one age-revealing indicator: when “going down” becomes worse than going up.
I remember, so clearly, my parents saying going down was harder than going up and thinking they were truly insane. Not wanting to sound like my parents, I try never to say it out loud. But I’m thinking it, man. I’m thinking it.
We did 90% of the hike. Dave’s neck was getting sore, so I booted it up another .5 miles to the falls by myself but stopped short of going to the end — the upper lake (isn’t a lake a lake a lake??). Then I ran (yes, you heard that right, I RAN) back, thinking that maybe if I ran one mile on a trail it might make up for the case of beer I’ve drank and the 20 out of 23 days I’ve not worked out.
Thoughts?
We were both pretty tired by the end. Because, you know, it’s HARDER going DOWN.
We picked some of the sourest blueberries you could ever hope to meet and skeedaddled to find a campsite.
Thankfully we had service, because the gigantic DeLorme Alaska atlas we bought for this trip sucks. It shows like 10% of the actual campgrounds. Google maps has been our best tool for finding campgrounds, but obviously that only works when we have service. (Which, thankfully, we did.)
However, it brought up a very tired subject that is now 5,600 miles long.
Dave: “Why don’t we have StarLink?” *
Jennie: “Because it’s too expensive. We don’t need it.”
Blah blah blah.
We start round number six of debating StarLink…. And, if I could go buy fricken StarLink in Anchorage, I would.
Score one for Dave.
It doesn’t help that L I T E R A L L Y every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the campgrounds has one.
Anyway. I found a little State Recreation area that was just fine for the night and we used up the last of our food in the fridge. Pasta with Italian sausage and chopped cabbage, butter, lemon and Parmesan.
People. I KNOW you are cringing at that description, but I’m telling you: I’M ON TO SOMETHING WITH THIS CABBAGE THING.
For some strange reason, I didn’t sleep at all. Maybe it was the jet-skiers on the lake going full bore until midnight… Or maybe it was the people in the site next to us that pulled in at 1:57 am… But I don’t think so. Sometimes it just happens.
And it stinks.
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